Disclaimer: (Looks around) Shh! I'm hunting for Jack Sparrow! This means he's not mine…yet.
AN: Another 'short' chapter, meaning shorter than I normally write. Oh, and I should mention that Molly is about 16-years-old. Hope you enjoy and will review! Thanks!
Chapter 24: Misery and Guests:
Biting back a growl, I felt another hair pin jab into my head. "Bloody hell!" I hissed, expecting to feel blood trickling down my face or neck from a wound.
"Sorry, Miss!" Molly apologized for the tenth time. "It's just that your hair is so thick, it's hard to tame it. I'll try to be more careful."
This time, I didn't bother hiding my growl of frustration and anger. My third day here in my parents' home, and I was being forced to attend a tea party my mother had concocted. How in the world she had managed to put the whole event together was a mystery, but somehow, the food was prepared, the guests were already arriving, and Mother was in a wonderful mood.
'Of course, Mother always does her best to appear cheerful in public,' I thought, wincing as Molly shoved another pin into my hair, and thus into my head.
My mother was the embodiment of the perfect aristocratic woman. Even in the darkest of moods, even when everything that could go wrong at a party actually happened, Mother always managed to put on a cheerful smile and laugh as though each disaster were insignificant. If her world were falling down around her, Mother was still able to look as though she were in high spirits. Standing under the lamps so that her jewelry sparkled, dressed in her finest gowns while fluttering her jewel-encrusted fan, people would always know her to be charming, sweet, and a joy to be with.
'Of course, they've seen her behavior outside of a ball or tea party,' I thought while Molly began tying ribbons and lace into my hair for decoration.
Since my return, Mother had done everything possible to make me forget about the glorious things I had experienced in my life as a pirate. First it was the facial powders, the maids, the corset, and the idea that I should go back to being the good little sheep I had been before my escape. Then, just this morning, I'd awoken to my mother shaking me awake, informing me that we would have guests this afternoon for tea, and that I needed to get up at once so that I could 'get ready.'
'Get ready indeed!' I silently huffed. 'Why in the world would I need an entire morning to prepare for a party that will be as dull and boring as wallpaper paste?'
Instead of following my mother's orders, I decided to keep to my rooms until the party. I had slept in an extra hour, had a leisurely breakfast, and read until my lunch was brought up by Molly. Only after I had eaten my luncheon did I allow my maid to help me with a gown for the afternoon. Right now, my hair was almost finished, and once the last strand was in place, I would be able to go downstairs. Thankfully, the creamy gown I wore required no corset, and was one of the few fancy tea gowns that didn't. If I had to face the idiotic group downstairs, at least I would be able to breathe while doing so.
Glancing at my reflection, I winced at all of the decorations being piled on top of my hair. 'Hopefully this afternoon won't last too long; if it does, I might have to pretend to be ill or do something equally drastic to get away.'
"There you are, Miss!" exclaimed Molly with a touch of pride. "All finished, and don't you look just lovely!"
Sighing, I rose from my chair. "If I were you, Molly dear, I'd stay in here. I have a feeling that I won't be at the party for very long, so be ready to help me out of everything when I get back."
Molly instantly grew concerned. "Are you alright, Miss Rose?" she quietly asked, knowing that I hated being called Angela these days. "Did lunch not sit well with you? I knew that the fish in the soup didn't look right. Do you need anything? Shall I fetch a doctor?"
At that point, my pirate survival instincts took effect. I could pretend to be ill, which would make me unable to attend the torture known as afternoon tea. Besides, whenever the cook here made fish soup (which was rarely), I always became ill a few hours after eating it. Mother's favorite dish was the cook's fish soup, so she didn't like my refusing to eat it. Instead, I ate it out of habit and lived with the consequences. Since I had consumed the broth only an hour ago, I would soon be sick to my stomach, the effects of which could prove very embarrassing if I were out in public.
Desperately trying to hide a grin, I schooled my features to look as though I were becoming ill. "Yes, Molly, I do believe that the soup is coming back to haunt me," I slowly replied. "I'm sorry to ruin all of your hard work, but it appears that my stomach is behaving against me."
Immediately, Molly began tsking, her hand touching my forehead as her eyes scanned my face. As my maid continued to fuss over me, the look of discomfort on my face no longer became an act. My stomach really was beginning to feel uneasy, switching between both cold and hot, and I could feel my skin go pale as I sank into a nearby chair.
'The cook must have used a great deal of her 'special fish' in this batch of soup, if I feel this ill so quickly,' I thought. 'Usually it takes three or so hours for me to feel this faint.'
Just then, my stomach rolled violently, catching me off guard. Thankfully, Molly was both observant and quick; she suddenly appeared with a washbasin and put it under my chin, just in time for me to be sick into it. It was several minutes before I was reduced to dry heaving, and by then, I was exhausted. Molly took the basin and went to the door, opening it to summon a servant to take it and its contents away. Once that was done, she quickly returned to my side.
"Let me undress you, Miss Rose, and then we'll get you right into bed," she cooed softly as she began removing the odds-and-ends from my hair.
I sighed in relief as the painful hairpins were taken out, the strands free to fall down my back in waves. After that was finished, I felt the laces of my dress being undone, the material being pulled down my shoulders before I had the chance to rise up from my chair. Somehow, Molly managed to pull the entire gown off of my body without my having to move much, and once I was free of the heavy dress and in a light nightgown, I was carefully escorted to my bed.
"There you are, Miss," Molly said as I settled down under the comforter. "Shall I get a heating pan to place under the mattress? It wouldn't do for your feet to get cold."
Biting my lip, I considered the idea. "Yes, that would be nice," I said, my voice weak with exhaustion. "No visitors, please, not even my parents. I don't feel like facing them at all."
Molly gave a curtsey and bent to gather up the gown from the floor. She gave the garment a brisk shake before going to the wardrobe and hanging it up, hoping to prevent wrinkles from forming in the silk and lace. It was a lovely piece, to be sure, but the lace was itchy and I always felt as though I were going to rip the delicate silk just by touching it. Although silk, satin, and velvet were all very nice, I preferred the rough, durable materials that made up my shirts and breeches on the Pearl.
Sighing, I watched as Molly picked up the covered pan that would hold the embers to warm my bed. "You know, Miss, I envy you very much," Molly said, her voice soft as she made her way to the fireplace. "Even though you were born to privilege, you were strong enough to give it all up for the freedom to do what you wanted." She scooped up a few glowing coals and shut the pan, bringing it over to slide under my mattress. "Then, just when you're free of your chains, you find someone who loves you enough to marry you and make you their equal! It's just beautiful, Miss."
"Thank you, Molly," I said, surprised at her words. "I wish on you the same joy that I have experienced in life. I hope that you, too, will discover love and freedom, just as I have."
Molly gave me a soft, but sad smile. "That would be nice," she said, casting her eyes down. "I think I would like to fall in love…someday."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Angela, are you there?" my mother's voice called through the wood. "Darling, I'm all for you making a grand entrance, you are more than fashionably late. What are you doing in there? Do you need another maid to help you ready yourself?"
I exchanged glances with Molly. The glimmer in her grey eyes was one of exasperation and humor, as though my mother's words both amused and annoyed her. She gave me a wink as she turned and headed for the door, turning the brass handle so that she could peek out. In spite of my body demanding that I fall asleep right this instant, I wanted to stay awake to see what would happen.
"Forgive me, Ma'am, but I'm afraid that Miss Nelson is unwell," Molly said, her voice the epitome of meekness and obedience. "The soup served at luncheon today seems to have disagreed with her."
"Oh, surely it cannot be that bad!" Mother declared. "Let me in at once. I will see my daughter."
Hurriedly closing my eyes, I rolled onto my side and pretended to be asleep, my hands pressed together and tucked under my cheek as I lay on my side. I could feel the pastiness of my skin against that of my hand, and knew that my mother would see I was not pretending to be ill.
'Though I would happily pretend to be ill, just so I wouldn't have to attend one of her parties,' I though in disgust. I heard the swish of skirts nearby and kept my eyes closed, praying for this to be quick so that I could actually go to sleep.
"Well, she does look pale, now, doesn't she?" Mother softly commented, a touch of reluctance in her voice. "I'll have to make excuses to the guests, then tell Cook to not make that particular soup again."
Another swirl of skirts, the sound of the door closing and locking, and I knew my mother had left. I heard another set of skirts moving around the room, as well as someone humming softly as they tried to keep busy. It was soothing, and before I knew it, I was asleep.
Glancing around the parlor, Gerard Hastings measured the wealth currently being worn by the aristocrats gossiping around him. Since it was only a tea party, the women weren't wearing their best jewels, though each lady wore at least one or two small pieces meant for frequent use. The jewelry was limited to gold lockets, necklaces and/or bracelets of gold or silver with one or two small colored gems in them, or a delicate set of earrings.
'Jewelry meant to flatter and give off a small amount of sparkle, not to dazzle as formal eveningwear does,' Gerard thought with a bit of distain.
He had dressed his utter best, wearing a green coat with gold braids and embroidery, as well as gold buttons going down the front. His shirt was made of fine white silk, as were his stockings, and he had black leggings and boots to complete his outfit. Instead of a wig and hat, he merely wore his hair smoothed back into a ponytail. From the looks being thrown at him by the ladies, he knew that he looked quite the handsome gentleman.
As a pirate and a nobleman, part of him wanted to see the sort of level of aristocracy he would be marrying into after he wedded Rose. He had been ecstatic to receive an invitation to today's tea party event, his mind wondering what sort of people would be there. Gerard was quite pleased to see numerous young ladies arriving in elegant carriages, most of whom had probably been friends with Rose prior to her disappearance. There were a few young men attending the party as well, which made Gerard rather upset.
'Her mother has some nerve inviting handsome, available young men to this party, especially after I told them that I wish to wed their daughter,' he fumed as he helped himself to a glass of the light, expensive champagne being passed around by a servant.
Even though everyone had been told it was a tea party, it was actually a miniature celebration of Miss Angela Nelson being return home, safe and sound. There was tea, of course, but there was also champagne and some wine being served, much to the pleasure of the guests. However, the party had been underway for about half an hour, and there was still no sign of the guest-of-honor. Wondering what was wrong, Gerard spotted Mrs. Nelson heading up the stairs, possibly to check and see if Rose was ready to attend her party.
To his surprise, Mrs. Nelson returned a few minutes later with a look of worry on her face. As one, everyone turned towards her, almost as though someone had sent a silent signal to each of the guests to turn and look. Once she had their attention, Mrs. Nelson gave them all a small smile of apology.
"I am sorry to say that my daughter will not be able to attend her own party this afternoon," the lady of the house declared with an apologetic tone. "I am afraid that she has suddenly become ill, but she asked me to thank you all for coming, and that she promises to attend the ball that her father and I are having in her honor in a week's time. I hope that you and your families will all attend."
The guests gave a polite round of applause before turning to talk amongst themselves about what had just been said. Gerard pretended to not listen, but made sure to hear everything. Several young ladies were whispering that Miss Nelson was pretending to be ill, just so she would have more attention from the community. Others thought that perhaps the poor young woman hadn't fully recovered from her ordeal of being kidnapped by pirates, and that perhaps having the ball a week from today would be a better time for her to appear in public.
After several minutes of listening in on others, Gerard decided to visit Rose and see if she really was ill or if she was doing this to infuriate her parents. Handing his empty glass to a nearby servant, Gerard made his way to the back of the house, searching for the servant's stairway that led up to the family's rooms. He quickly found what he was looking for when he saw a group of maids clamoring down a stairway built into the thick outer wall of the house.
Smiling, Gerard listened to be sure that no one was already on the stairs, then climbed quietly upwards, eyes intent on the doorway leading to the second floor. Flexing his gloved hand, he slipped through the door and glanced around, trying to find some hint as to which room belonged to Rose. Since the master and mistress of the home were downstairs at the party, and since every servant was needed to attend the guests, most of the rooms would be empty. It would make sense that the one room with occupants in it would belong to Rose.
Looking underneath the doors, he spotted one that had a shadow moving about. Grinning, Gerard raised a gloved hand and gently rapped on the door. Soft footsteps approached, and he listened as a hand unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a small maid dressed in a uniform of grey-blue. The maid gazed up at him with meek grey eyes as loose blonde strands escaped the white cap she wore on top of her head.
"Yes, sir?" she said in a soft voice. "Can I help you with something?"
"I'm here to see Miss Nelson," Gerard declared, his voice full of authority.
The maid curtseyed, but he could see the disapproving look on her face. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that she is sleeping." Rising from her curtsey, she looked up at him. "If you come back later or send your regards in a note, I am sure that she will respond to it."
Furious, Gerard pushed the door open, forcing the maid to stumble back and let him in. "I do not care if she is sleeping or not, I wish to see her," he said with a glare. How dare a servant defy him!
With the maid quietly protesting, Gerard kept his temper in check as he approached the bed, trying to keep his footsteps swift, but silent. He reached the bed in minutes, and upon seeing the precious lady asleep in the bed, he felt a touch of alarm shoot through him.
'Good God, she's as pale as her sheets,' Gerard thought with concern and a bit of anger. 'How could she have become so ill so soon? She hasn't even been home more than three days.'
This illness could not have come from his men, as he had made sure they were all healthy before setting out to sea. Rose could not have caught it here on land, either, due to her stay here being so brief. That left only one other option…
'It had to have come from her meal.' Gerard felt his fingers clench. 'Some fool in the kitchen must have used some spoiled food in the morning or afternoon meal, and now Rose is ill.'
If he had been on his ship, he would have stalked out of the room in anger and dealt with the matter immediately. However, the sight of Rose's pale face chilled him. What kind of house was being run here, if the servants prepared bad food to their master's family? How could Mr. and Mrs. Nelson not have a firm hand over those who served them?
'Our home will not be like this,' he silently vowed to the sleeping Rose. 'Our house will have obedient servants, all of whom will obey every command without question and will do everything in their power to please us.'
Rose stirred in her sleep, her left hand now resting on top of her stomach. The glimmer of gold and black pearl made Gerard's heart harden. She still wore Sparrow's rings, meaning that she had not yet let go of the past. If the two of them were to marry, then Rose must release all feelings that she had for Jack Sparrow and accept her role as mistress of the Hastings estates. Already Gerard could imagine that his heirs would be attractive and brought up correctly by an army of nurses and tutors.
'Soon, my dear Rose,' he thought to her. 'When you are well, I will ask your parents to announce our engagement at the ball being held in your honor. Then I mean to wed you in a proper church by a man of the cloth, just as Sparrow should have.'
Grinning, he pressed a kiss to Rose's forehead before returning to the party going on downstairs.
AN: Yes, Gerry is an ass, but we already knew that, didn't we? Please review!